Private Suicide
by Dizasster
Summary: It was no big deal if Kenny died 'cause he'd always come back. But if he commits suicide, even if he comes back, why would he do that? To me, most of all... Rated T for some language, might be rated M later. K2.
1. Chapter 1

As I looked at his eyes, I saw he didn't recognize me. The blood got all over my gloves, seeping into the green fabric, staining it a crimson-brown. The blue of his eyes, the twinkle, they were dulled and glaze over as if he didn't see me anymore. He fell to the ground, dropping the razor to the floor.

Kenny always died. Always. And came back. But this time, it was self-inflicted.

I looked at the wrists, cut up the length of his arm and across the bony flesh.

I hyperventilated. I wasn't sure if this was the last time. Why was it taking him so long to wake up? So long for his eyes to suddenly blink and then be normal again, looking at me.

My other hang slipped on the wet and dirty bathroom floor, making me fall on him.

I scrambled to get back up, then kneeled over him again and tapped his face lightly.

"Kenny," I said lightly. "Kenny, get up. Kenny?"

His eyes still remained glazed over.

"Kenny! Dude, get the fuck up! Get up!" I yelled at him.

Suddenly his eyes rolled around, searching for something until they finally fixated on my face. Kenny blinked a few times, then groaned and picked up his weak arm, looking at the scabs that had formed over the flesh.

"Oh, god, Kenny!" I sighed with relief, pulling him to my chest.

"K-Kyle?" he stuttered. "What happened?"

"Don't ever do that again!" I said, shaking his shoulders. "If something's the matter, tell us! We're your friends!"

"How did you get in my house?" Kenny asked.

"Your dad let me in. Kenny, why did you kill yourself? I didn't know if you were coming back! What-What possessed you to do that?" I asked him.

Kenny held his head and sat up. His ribbed tank top hung on his skinny frame, stained with blood.

"I couldn't…take it anymore." He said. He pulled his knees up to his chest. I noticed he was shaking.

"Kenny…" I said. "Couldn't take what?"

"It's nothing, Kyle! Leave me alone! I don't want to go out today," he said, standing up. He pulled me up, me being lighter than him.

At 17 years old, Kenny had grown taller than I by four inches, and gained a little more muscle. But his face was still like a baby. A rounder jaw line and big, blue eyes that made girls swoon, blonde hair that was short but messy and hung in his face all the time.

"Get out," he said, dragging me to the door, pushing me outside, then slamming it.

I stood there, not sure of what to do. I was now locked outside the house.

"Kenny, I'll be at Stan's. I have my phone…" I called, but trailed off, not sure if he was still behind the door or gone off somewhere.

At the age of 17, I watched my friend commit suicide. Little did I know, that suicide was more than physical.


	2. Chapter 2

Kenny sat with his back against the front door, listening to Kyle's footsteps as they went off into the distance. He cradled his arms against his chest, pushing back tears that stung his eyes. His unkempt blond hair fell in his face as he trembled.

He looked up at the couch when he heard snoring and saw his father passed out on the couch. Nothing would be waking him up. Mom would be home from the store with his brother soon. Better get cleaned up.

He walked into his dingy room with the stained rug and pulled out a different tank top, chucking the old one in his waste basket by his bed. Then he put the new one on and changed his pajama pants into jeans, then pulled on some socks that hung off the end where the toes should be.

He then proceeded to go into the bathroom with a bunch of paper towels from the kitchen and mopped up the blood that was smeared on the grimy tiles. The metallic smell made his stomach churn, but at least _they_ had stopped for now.

_Don't be so sure…_the voice said to him. He gasped and put his hands on his head.

"Stop…" he whispered.

_Why should we?_ Said the other voice. _That scene was sooo delightful, watching that boy tremble and scream over your broken body. _

_And what was that "friendship" crap he was spouting? 'Tell us if something is wrong!'_ the first voice sneered, pretending to be Kyle.

"Leave me alone!" Kenny said. He looked down at the scabs on his forearms. _They_ made him to this. _They_ made a mockery of him, scared Kyle, and made him ashamed of himself to be found bleeding on the floor like a human fountain.

'_Leave me alone,' he says. 'Stooop,' he says. Kill yourself, boy, then the pain will go away…_

"It won't go away now STOP!" Kenny yelled, getting to his feet and snarling, angry. He took a step towards the door, but tripped, smashing his head on the towel rack.

As the world swirled around him, Kenny watched his vision tunnel and everything turn blurry.

_I think he's out again…_said the one voice.

_Well…maybe we'll get to see someone cry over him…the other said._

_Yes! So deli…_

But they faded out as Kenny lost consciousness, watching as more blood trickled onto the floor, weaving through the cracks of the white tiles…

_Beep…_a noise sounded.

_Beep…_shit, there it was again.

_Beep…_now it was annoying.

"Kenny?" a soft, cloudy voice drifted over him. "Sweetie?"

"Mom…" his voice squeaked, like he had laryngitis.

He opened his eyes and his mom was sitting with his dad behind her, his hands on her shoulders. Her red hair was ragged and hanging in her face. There were dark circles under his father's eyes. The heart monitor above his head had been the source of the beeping sound.

"Oh Kenny…" his mom said. She stood and kissed his forehead. He felt the bandages shift against his skin when she did so.

"What happened?" he asked.

"While _your father_ was asleep you must've tripped in the bathroom and hit your head on the towel rack. There was blood everywhere," she said. She gagged slightly, thinking about it.

"Mr. and Mrs. McCormick?" a voice came from the hospital room door. "The psychiatrist would like to speak to Kenny alone, please."

"We'll be back later, honey," his mother said. She kissed him again and his dad patted his arm, and then walked out of the room behind his mother. As they left, his father put a hand on his mother's shoulder and she brushed it off angrily.

A woman appeared behind the doctor, who said something inaudible and then walked out. The psychiatrist came over and extended her hand. But Kenny just looked at it since his arms had tubes of all kinds running everywhere. She smoothed her skirt awkwardly with her hand and then sat down in the chair his mother had been sitting in.

"Kenny McCormick, yes?" she asked.

"Yes," he said.

"Kenny…why would you cut yourself?" she asked.

He was puzzled for a moment, then looked down at the slit arteries in his wrist. They were still scabby, but not fully healed.

"I didn't," he said. "I killed myself,"

"Yes, I know of your…strange…regeneration. But why would you kill yourself?" she asked.

"No reason…" he said.

"Kenny there is no 'no reason' to kill yourself," she said.

He was puzzled at her use of double negatives. "I think your grammar is slightly-"

"Don't worry about my grammar, Kenny, worry about _you_," she said. Strange how she could keep that fake smile while clearly chiding him.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he said.

"Try me. I've worked with the worst," she said quickly.

"I hear voices," he said.

"Not uncommon at all. What kind of voices?" she asked. Kenny though to himself that he thought psychiatrists were supposed to let their patients talk and they were just supposed to listen.

"Two voices. Male and female, I guess," he explained.

"And what do they tell you? To kill people? Kill others? That you're a gorilla from the KGB?"

"What?" Kenny asked.

"Nothing, continue," she said, still sporting that scary smile.

"Sometimes they tell me to kill myself…otherwise they just talk. And make me miserable," Kenny said.

"You have schizophrenia," she said.

Kenny just stared at her. She diagnosed him in a five minute time span. He thought these people were supposed to be calculating and smart.

"Don't you wanna…do a brain scan or something?" Kenny asked.

"Why? It's quite obvious what you have," she said.

"So you mean…I'm crazy?"

"Noo, nooo, Kenny, not crazy," she said in a baby voice, like she was talking to some deranged pet. "Just schizophrenic."

"I believe that means I'm crazy…" he said, confused. But then he left it to her, since she was supposedly a "professional".

"We need to put you on medication, and then we'll monitor your progress and you'll come see me three times a week," she said. She went into her briefcase and took out a prescription pad, and starting writing incoherently on it. She then put it on his night table and gave him her business card. "Call me after you get the prescription and make an appointment with my secretary." Then she walked out briskly.

Kenny wormed his way to the edge of the bed and then strained his I.V. tubes to get to the business card. She never even told him her name. He looked at it. It read:

Dr. Maria Tennenbam

6677 South Avenue

South Park, Colorado

Psychiatrist

A simple business card. Nothing special. Not that he'd expected anything special.

Later on, his parents showed up from having dinner. They didn't go near each other, nor speak to one another and Kenny figured she was mad that his father had allowed him to cause harm to himself. Well, Kenny's dad had been drunk. It happened often and happened worse and worse over Kenny's life.

"Honey, we're going to go home now that you're awake," his mother said. "I'll come see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay," Kenny said. He was tired from today, even though the voices hadn't made a peep since he'd hit his head. Maybe they were gone and a good knock to the noggin was all he needed.

"Good night, son," his dad said.

"Night, dad," Then he was alone. His parents were gone and all was silent. It felt nice. For once, the voices stayed quiet and he could think.

But thinking was quickly overturned by sleep and he slowly drifted off again…

_Thought you'd get rid of us, hunh?_ A familiar voice said through the darkness.

Kenny's eyes flew open. He sat up quickly, which made his injured head throb. Looking around, he saw that it was exaclty 1:00 AM. He'd gotten about four hours of sleep.

_Oh! To see your mother scream and drop the groceries when she found all the blood on the floor! Spectacular! Best show by far! _The female voice said.

"Stop it…stop it…" Kenny started mumbling. He took shallow, shaky breaths, looking around. "Stop it, stop it, stop it!"

_That stupid cow thinks that simple medication will get rid of us? We've taken hold of this body…it's OURS! _the male said, laughing maniacally in his head.

Kenny grabbed the nurse button and hit it, then hit it again, then hit it, then again, and again. He kept hitting it but the nurse wouldn't come.

_Don't call the damn nurse! Not like she'll believe you anyway! _The male said, once again laughing. _Pathetic fool!_

_He knows no one will come because no one cares!_ The female chimed. _Ha-ha! He's going to be alone forever! And he knows it! Oh, just look at him squirm!_

"Stop it! Stop it!" he said. He kept hitting the button and hitting the button but he didn't even hear footsteps. They were going to leave him here! The voices were right! The nurses didn't care; they just went about their miserable jobs just like he went about his miserable life! Day in, day out, day in…

Kenny threw the covers off his legs and pushed the left rail down, probably breaking the latch you were supposed to undo it with. He ripped the I.V. out and the morphine one out of the other arm. His head swooned, but he got up anyway, his slip-socked feet hitting the cold tile floor. He was in only boxers and the hospital gown and goose bumps immediately went up his legs and down his arms from the sudden cold.

He took a step towards the door laboriously.

_Run, child! You'll never get away! Not on those weak legs! _The female shrieked.

"Shut up!" he yelled, this time at the top of his lungs.

_You can't shut us up because we're in your heeeeaaad,_ the male sang.

_We're like the dream police!_ The female said.

_He's too young to know The Dream Police, stupid!_

You're _stupid!_

"Shut up! Shut up, shut up!" he yelled.

_He can't even tell the boy he claims to love about how he feels, the stupid brat! _The male voice said.

"Argh!" Kenny shouted, finally angry, almost towards the door. There was nothing in the room he could hit himself with. Anything at all would do, anything! Just put him out! Knock him out! There was only a t.v. and a nightstand and a rolling table.

He picked up the remote to the t.v. and was about to try and smash it into his skull when a bunch of nurses came running in and grabbed his arms and the remote out of his hand.

Security was there in a flash and they forced him into the bed, kicking and screaming.

"No! Let me go! Let me go! They won't go unless I'm dead! They want me dead!" he screamed. Tears poured from his eyes. "They want me to die! I want to die! Please! Kill me, please! Kill me!"

He kicked a nurse in the face, clawed at another's arms. The security guard was trying not to grab his injured head, but the bandage was beginning to fall off anyway from his valiant struggle.

_I like this show a lot better…_the female voice said anxiously.

"Shut up, whore!" Kenny yelled.

"Kenny, please! Mr. McCormick, please calm down!" the nurse pleaded.

"They want me dead!" he yelled. He saw the one security guard was getting angry. "Hit me, big man!" he yelled. "You know you want to! Hit me! Hit me!"

"Don't do it!" a nurse yelled.

There were two nurses to his left arm, three to his left leg, and one security guard on each limb on his right side. He tried to swing his head around, trying to connect it to something, but his head and neck were sore and he couldn't do it fast enough.

Another nurse appeared out of nowhere with a bottle of something and a syringe. The girls on his left held his arm out for her, exposing his forearm which was so tense you see the muscles bulging from strain.

The nurse swabbed the area over the vein and stuck the needle in, putting whatever substance that was in it straight into his blood.

He then kicked some more and howled in anger. What were they giving him? How would this make him any better?!

_Looks like it's light out again, kid…_the male said.

_Maybe you'll have sweet, drug-induced dreams…_the female said in a honey sweet voice.

Kenny was still disoriented and trying to kick and hit and scream but his limbs suddenly felt so heavy, and so did his eye lids.

He felt the nurses fix the rail on the side of the bed and then they forced him into restraints so he couldn't move his arms or legs.

He suddenly just couldn't keep awake anymore. He turned his head to look at the clock. It had felt like that ordeal had taken an hour. Hours, more like it.

But when he looked at the digital numbers, the last thing he saw before the darkness overtook him, he saw it was only 1:05.


	3. Chapter 3

Kyle sat next to his friend's bed. Kenny looked drugged out, and it made Kyle sad. He wasn't Kenny anymore. Fun-loving, titty-grabbing, playboy-reading Kenny was gone. Just this empty husk seemed to be left.

They told Kyle that if he was to visit, he could talk to Kenny and maybe hold his hand, but disturbing him in any way wasn't suggested. He'd apparently had an episode last night.

Kyle looked Kenny up and down, studying the other boy's features.

Kenny's eyes were open a little, their usual vibrancy dulled and glazed over with drugs. His hands were bound up by his head with some white restraints. His hair was messier than usual and the bandage around his head was fresh. His gown was coming off and Kyle could see his ribs whenever he took a breath. He watched the muscles tighten a bit in his abdomen. His boxers were low on his hips from when he was struggling. His bare ankles were restrained to the railing, pulling his legs open to either side of the bed. The non-slip socks were still on his feet. The blanket was tucked a little around his legs, but he'd probably moved a little and it slipped down.

"Kenny," Kyle said. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

At school, Stan ate lunch across from Kyle quietly while reading a book for their English class.

Stan and Kyle had remained best friends, along with Kenny usually. Cartman had gone off and done his own thing. He'd probably drop school soon, since he hadn't been doing so well. Ever since he joined the wrestling team he'd turned into a total jerk, but he was so good they wouldn't kick him off, even with his crappy grades.

Tweek sat next to Stan, and Craig sat on Kyle's left. They were arguing about what brand of coffee was better, and of course Tweek insisted his parent's brew was better than anything ever created. Craig sighed, flipped him the bird, and went back to eating his lunch.

Tweek and Craig, along with Token and Butters, had joined the group their sophomore year of high school, once Kyle, Stan, and Kenny had stopped hanging out with Cartman. Clyde had started to hang out with Cartman.

Tweek was the same old Tweek. He was still always high strung, but despite that he was top of his class, even though no one could figure out why.

Craig was average, as Craig tended to be. He and Clyde stopped hanging out when Clyde turned into a jerk. There had been rumors about Clyde and Craig being more than "friends" during their freshman year, but that had stopped when Clyde decided to hang with Cartman, which lead to a public fight between Craig and Clyde.

Token and Butters sat down with their trays of food, saying a hello to the rest of the boys. The others chimed in an unenthusiastic "hullo".

"What's going on with Kenny, Kyle?" Token asked, beginning to prepare his salad he'd bought on the lunch line.

"I don't know," Kyle said. "They have him all drugged up. But supposedly, if he doesn't have another episode when they wake him up, he can go home. His CAT scans showed up normal, no brain damage."

"Well, at least he's not brain damaged," Token said.

Butters took a sip of his juice. "C-Can we go see Kenny? Are they allowing visitors?" he asked.

"Yeah, but he's not much company," Kyle said.

"Dude, I'm sure he'll be fine. He's Kenny, after all," Stan said, not looking up from his book. He had the lunch period to memorize six chapters for their test next period.

"Oh, God, do you think he'll die?! Ah! That's too much, too much!" Tweek said, putting his hands on his head. "Maybe he's crazy! Maybe I'm crazy?"

"Dude, shut up," Craig said.

"F-Fuck you!" Tweek said.

Craig flipped him the bird, not even stopping his fork from going to his mouth.

Such a typical day, except Kenny wasn't there to look at nudey mags and comment on the girls in their school's boobies. It felt empty without Kenny around being slightly vulgar.

"I don't think I'm going to see him until he comes home," Kyle said. He'd never told anyone about the fact that Kenny had killed himself hours before tripping and cracking his head on the towel rack. He hadn't told anyone that he'd been the one who found him and had talked to him last before he seemed to have taken a turn for the worst.

"Why not?" Butters asked.

"Hm?" Kyle said, realizing he'd forgotten what he'd said.

"Why aren't you going to go see him before he goes home?" Butters asked.

"He's all like…coked out at the hospital because he had, like, a nervous breakdown. He won't even be coming back to school for two weeks after he comes home," Kyle answered.

"That's rough, man," Token said. "It's a shame Kenny went crazy."

"He's not crazy!" Kyle snapped.

"Oh," Butters quietly exclaimed at Kyle's outburst. "Don't need to be so mean, Kyle."

"Sorry, it's just…" Kyle trailed off. He didn't know why he was defending Kenny, even though it seemed like he actually had gone crazy. "I gotta go." He stood up.

Kyle cut school for the rest of the day.

Three days later, Kenny was wheeled out in a wheelchair to the outpatient exit of the hospital. His father helped him stand up and get in the back seat of their beat up old car, and his mother sat in the passenger seat.

"How are you feeling, Kenny?" his mother asked sweetly, looking over her shoulder at him.

Kenny couldn't reply even if he wanted to. He looked at her, but she was cloudy in his eyes and his jaw felt like lead, as if he'd never move it again. He just blinked at her.

"Oh, what did they do to him? They've made our boy a zombie," she said in her southern twang. She turned back around.

"Baby, can't we work things out?" his father asked.

"No," she said. "That was the last straw. What if I hadn't come home when I did? For all you know, Kenny could've been really dead and he may not have come back. You're no good for our children."

"You're going to take them away from me?" he asked.

"No, I'm getting rid of you," she said. "Once Kenny's better, I'm going to tell him about the divorce. I want you out of the house after that."

"I still love you, you know…" his father said quietly. Even in his stupefied state, Kenny could hear what they were talking about. He'd never heard his father sound so defeated in his whole life.

"Sometimes I think I love you, too," she said. "But you know it's been a long time coming. That we only stayed together for the kids."

"I can change!" his father said. "I can, and we'll be better again, and you can love me again like you used to…"

"That's long gone, Stuart," she said.

They were silent until they got home.

When they pulled up to the house, his father helped him—practically carried him—into his bedroom and laid him gently on the bed, his mother behind him. He gently tousled his son's hair and his mother kissed him on the cheek.

"If you need anything, Kenny, try and come get us. We'll be checking in on you, and Daddy's going to drop off your prescription right now." She said. His father nodded.

They walked out of the room, leaving Kenny alone in his silent room. Here, all he could do was observe everything around him. In this state, Kenny was helpless but the silence of it all felt so refreshing. He nodded off to sleep, loving the silence in his head.

Kenny rolled over and yawned, stretching tired, unused muscles.

Wait, he moved! Kenny shot up in bed and immediately fell back down due to the concussion he still had. When the world stopped spinning, he sat up slowly, holding his head still with one hand.

Okay, he could move. The drugs had worn off, thankfully. He hadn't especially liked feeling like a zombie, except it made the voices go away.

There was a knock on his door and he hollered a hoarse, "Come in!"

His mother opened the door and smiled when she saw he was sitting up. "You been sleepin' all night, Kenny," she said. "Your little friend Kyle is here to see you, since its Saturday. He said he wanted to see how you was doing."

Kenny tried to stand up and succeeded, shakily, and his mother had to help him walk into the living room, where Kyle was sitting on the couch with a plate in his hand from breakfast. Kyle looked over at them when he heard them come in.

"Kenny!" Kyle exclaimed. "You look great, dude!"

"T-Thanks," Kenny said. His mother helped him over to the couch and he plopped down.

"I'll get you some eggs and bacon, Ken," his mother said, walking into the kitchen.

"Dude, what made you so sick?" Kyle said.

"Nothin'," Kenny said, suddenly embarrassed by his situation. At least, embarrassed in front of Kyle.

Kenny had discovered his feelings for Kyle their freshman year of high school, when he and Stan were sleeping over Kyle's house once so they could go to PiPi's Water Park the next day before the summer weather was gone. Once Stan had gone to sleep, he and Kyle stayed up for hours talking about nothing in particular. And Kenny found himself hanging on Kyle's every word. Kyle had kept a desk light on and Kenny was awe struck by the other boy's beauty in the almost yellow glow of the lamp. His red hair sparkled; his green eyes were wide and attentive at Kenny's stories.

Even now, looking at Kyle, he loved him. He'd fallen hard long ago, and now they were seniors in high school. Kenny and Kyle would be turning eighteen soon, and would be graduating. Kyle, of course, was on to bigger and better things. Kenny…well who knew. He'd had a plan in his head to tell Kyle how he'd felt once they graduated. Of course the scenarios in his head went along the lines of Kyle throwing himself at Kenny and confessing his love for him, too. But Kenny was a realist. He knew that wouldn't happen.

His mother walked in and gave him a plate heaping with eggs and bacon, then walked back into the kitchen to read the newspaper. He felt like he was starving, being that they'd practically fed him through a tube for the last three days. He took tentative bites, afraid that if he ate too fast he'd throw up.

"Your mom told me about…y'know," Kyle said.

"About what?" Kenny asked, playing dumb.

_That you're crazy, silly boy,_ the female voice rang in his head.

"About the schizophrenia," Kyle said.

"Oh," Kenny said. "It's not a big deal."

_Ha-ha! Keep telling yourself that,_ the male voice said.

"Why didn't you tell me, Kenny?" Kyle asked, genuine sadness in his eyes.

"I didn't want you to worry about me, what with you having to get in a good college and stuff," Kenny said.

"But you're my best friend, Kenny," Kyle said. "And what about you? You're going to college, too, right?"

Kenny was silent for a few moments, munching on his bacon. He hadn't thought too much about college. His parents didn't have the money, and he would certainly never have the money, even with government help. He didn't know what he wanted to do, nor where he wanted to go.

"I don't think so, Kyle," Kenny said. "I don't have the grades, or the money."

"You could get some loans and government help," Kyle said.

"I wouldn't even be able to pay for books. And I'm not smart, like you, Kyle." Kenny said.

_You've got that right, boy. You're even too stupid to end your own life._ The male voice said.

"You're really smart, Kenny, you just have no self-esteem," Kyle said.

Kyle's eyes were still sad, but looking at his friend with such fierce determination it made Kenny's heart ache.

"Kyle…I-" Kenny began.

_Don't speak, fool, you're just a useless little brat. Don't let your "friend" tell you anything different._

"God, shut up!" Kenny snapped.

"Kenny? You mean me?" Kyle asked.

"No! No…" Kenny sighed. "I mean _them_," he said.

"The voices?"

"Yeah, I just…they're so distracting." Kenny said.

Kyle could see that Kenny was flustered about something. Whether it was about the voices or something else, he wasn't sure.

"Kenny, you can tell me what's wrong, you know that. You're my friend. And Stan, and Butters, Token, and even Tweek and Craig. We're all your friends and we all care about you. Tweek was afraid you were going to die," Kyle laughed. "He's so silly. He knows you're not…_really_ able to die."

"But what if I could, Kyle?" Kenny asked. "Sometimes…I wish I could."

Kyle sat there in silence. He wasn't sure what to say. He didn't want Kenny to die; they'd been friends since Kindergarten. He adored Kenny. Kenny made him laugh, helped him when he was upset, showed him his first Playboy magazine, helped him talk to girls…and all while Kenny, the whole time, was alone. And was fighting a losing battle…alone.

"Kenny…I--"

But before he could say anything, Kenny had put down his fork and plate and grabbed his shoulders, then pulled him to his lips.

Kyle sat there, stunned. Kenny's lips were pressed against his softly, and his hands were loose enough that Kyle could pull away if he wished.

But Kyle didn't want to.

He tentatively pushed back, not sure what to do. The kiss felt warm and soft, and since Kenny wasn't forcing him it felt comfortable. So Kyle kissed him back softly, and Kenny pushed a little harder, deepening it.

Kenny pulled away, breathing heavily. He sighed, and let go of Kyle's shoulders, putting his hands in his lap, palms up, and stared at them for a while. He couldn't believe he'd done that. He hadn't planned on doing it until they'd graduated but Kenny couldn't help himself. The way Kyle had looked at him…

"I'm sorry, Kyle," he said. "I think you'd better go now. I…I'm really tired…"

"Okay, Ken," Kyle stood up, thanked Kenny's mother for the breakfast, then walked out of the house.


	4. Chapter 4

Kyle stared at his hands during lunch. He'd already eaten his food and had a textbook open in front of him, but he wasn't really reading, nor paying attention at all, really.

Tweek was freaking out about the gnomes again, Butters was playing with his food while talking to Stan, who was trying to do homework for next period.

But Kyle…he was just staring down at his lap.

He wasn't so worried about the fact that Kenny had kissed him, he was worried about what was wrong in Kenny's head.

Kenny said he was a schitzo. But was he really? Sure, Kenny had always been strange, but what could've made him start hearing voices? All in all, Kenny had a hard life, but he'd never heard voices before.

Stan said something to him and laughed, but Kyle didn't hear, so he laughed back with a weak, "yeah" and continued staring at his hands.

Kenny sat in the big, squashy chair of the office, facing a big cherry wood desk with pictures of a dog and a man and a family photo. On the dark beige walls behind the desk was bunch of diplomas in psychiatry. There were some toys in a chest to the right, a book case to the left. Behind him, a little to the left of the door was one of those long chairs that you could lie down on with another big squashy chair next to it.

Dr. Maria Tannenbaum sat at the big desk, reading his file, asking him questions about his friends and taking some notes in a notepad next to his file. He wasn't sure if she was actually listening or if she was just writing down whatever he said automatically because her eyes never lifted from his file.

Finally, after closing his file about half an hour into the session, she looked up at him and smiled.

"Do you know anything about schizophrenia, Kenny?" she asked.

Kenny shook his head. "It means you're crazy, right?"

"No, Kenny," she said, still smiling patronizingly. "Schizophrenia is a mental illness. It usually develops at around your age—18, sometimes earlier, sometimes later—and can gradually get worse without medication. Some cases have included people seeing other people and believing they are real, some cases are like yours. Schizophrenia is different depending on the person, as is the dose of meds, and the treatment."

"What can bring on schizophrenia?" Kenny asked, twiddling his thumbs while holding his hands on his lap.

"No one is really sure. Some people develop it overtime, some cases people are born with it, some are brought on by traumatic experiences, and it's different for everyone." Dr. Tannenbaum said.

"What do I have to do to get rid of it?"

"You will never 'get rid of it', but you can learn to live with it and with the proper medication you can live a normal life. Unfortunately, your meds will have to be adjusted every few years and sometimes while they're balancing out you'll experience the voices again." Dr. Tannenbaum explained. "You're in this for the long haul, Kenny. This treatment will last the rest of your life."

"Great." Kenny said. "When do I get my meds and when can I go back to school?"

"Immediately and you can go back in a few days, once your meds balance out." She answered. "Now, tell me about your friends…" And they continued on the story of his everyday life.

"Kenny's coming back tomorrow," Stan said to Kyle in English class.

"Really?" Kyle asked, putting down his English book on top of his notebook, getting ready to get started.

"Yeah I was talking to his brother Kevin yesterday and he said Kenny's meds have apparently been all balanced so he's allowed back in school now," Stan explained.

"Did he say how Kenny's doing on the meds?" Kyle asked.

"He says he's getting better, but Kevin says he's been acting pretty weird. Like he's lying." Stan said with a sad half-hearted smirk.

"Maybe he's not. Maybe he's mellowing out…" Kyle said. At least, he hoped that was all it was.


	5. Ch5 Dies irae, Kyrie Libera me, domine

Part 2

Kenny's POV

Have you ever walked in when someone was talking about you, and even though you know they were they stay quiet when they realize you're, like, behind them or something?

I was terrified of that feeling.

I didn't know how many people knew why I was out. Kyle knew, and my lunch crew friends, and I know that Dr. Tannenbaum told the school in case something should "occur", but I didn't know how many other students knew.

If Cartman and Clyde knew, I'd be the butt of every joke for the rest of my high school career (sure, I only had a year left but I wanted my high school time to be fun, not miserable).

Also, if they found out, then everyone would know because those jerks could never keep a secret to themselves, unless it was their own.

Like how Clyde had confessed he liked me our freshman year of high school, that he had lost his virginity to Craig, and wasn't sure if he was in love with him or not. Or that Cartman liked to dress up like a woman and sometimes prostituted himself out to rich businessmen. Everyone wondered how Cartman had gotten every latest videogame console, a brand-new mustang, and the best drugs money could buy. It was because he had a sugar daddy.

Anyway, I knew more secrets about them than they definitely did of me, but it wouldn't stop them from getting a stiffy over the fact that I had gone insane.

I actually have a theory of my insanity, but I doubt it's true.

You see, I don't ever remember really hearing voices until one night in my sophomore year of high school.

I was going out with this chick and we had a fight so I went to the cemetery with Kyle and Stan. Kevin had scored some beer, so I gave him $20 and he gave me two six packs and a bottle of vodka. He was getting rid of it so cheap because if Mom found him drinking again, she'd have kicked his sorry butt. And Mom ALWAYS knew.

But anyway, we were drinking pretty heavily, but I was the only one able to hold my liquor and I drank more than the others.

Kyle and I were talking about the afterlife and ghosts and demons and he said that in cemeteries and stuff, demonic portals could be found.

Being drunk, I stood up on a gravestone and yelled, "Come and get me, you demons! Come on!" and, laughing, I got back down.

Still shit-faced, I got undressed and began running naked through the cemetery, tripping over my feet as my friends yelled that I needed to put my clothes back on and get sober before we got in trouble.

Next thing I knew, I tripped and fell and cracked my head on a gravestone.

If there's one thing I'm good at (since there aren't many things I AM good at) it's cracking my head and dying. I did it quite often and it pretty much sucked each time.

There IS another side, by the way. I'm not really supposed to talk about it, since I never really get into Heaven. I stand outside, an "angel" tells me "NO VACANCY FOR YOU!", sends me to Hell, where they say the same, then I get sent back as if nothing ever happened. But I always wake up with a searing headache worse than any hangover I've ever experienced.

After I woke up, things were normal for a day or two, but then I began hearing whispers as if someone was right behind me. I realized it was in my head pretty soon. But I didn't notice that there were two voices until almost a year later, when the female voice appeared.

But this is a stupid, ridiculous idea. I mean, there was an Imagination Land, and there was Hell and Heaven, but there weren't actually demons. I've been to Hell plenty and I've never seen any. There _are_ ghosts, but what would they want with me? Ghosts don't normally try to make you kill yourself. I would know. I was one at one time.

But as I said, it was stupid. Maybe hitting my head triggered it, I don't know.

When I pitched said idea to Tennenbaum, she said I was delirious from my medication. Okay.

I returned to school after my meds "balanced out". In all honesty, it didn't stop the voices, just made them easier to bear. I could hear them but they couldn't scream anymore, which was nice. Jumping out of bed in the middle of the night wasn't desirable.

I stood in front of the school door, other students filtering around me. I saw the hallway flash each time they opened and closed the door. I was terrified. I took a deep breath and right when I was about to grab the handle and pull, a redhead opened it and almost swung it into me.

"Kenny!" my best friend exclaimed.

"Kyle?" I said, stumbling back.

"Kenny! I heard you were coming back today! Dude, we were so worried!" he said.

I stared at him in disbelief. He was acting as if nothing had happened. Maybe I'd dreamed the kiss? I wasn't sure.

We walked down the hallway together and he babbled on about how Stan and Wendy got back together again and how Tweek spilled chemicals all over the Chemistry room and it had to be evacuated because it mixed with other chemicals.

The whole time I was dodging glances from classmates and glancing over at Kyle longingly. I wanted to ask him about the kiss, but it felt inappropriate.

We had English together and he caught me up on the book we were reading, Shakespeare's _Macbeth_. He even gave me a few answers to some of the questions in our worksheet packet the teacher had put together for the book.

English was the only class we had together because it was Honors English and that was the only honors class I had all day.

I saw him later in lunch. After being out for almost a month, they weren't used to me being there. They all looked at me as if I had five heads.

"Hey, guys," I said, putting my lunch tray down with its slop.

They exchanged looks before Stan said, "Hey, Kenny,"

"What?" I asked, seeing their nervous faces. It was if they thought they were stepping on eggshells.

"Are you okay?" Stan asked.

"I. AM. REAL." Butters enunciated, gesturing to himself and almost shouting. I'm crazy, not deaf.

"Um, sure..." I said, backing away from him a little. Butters was always a weird kid.

"Butters, Kenny's not deaf and he knows you're real! Christ," Kyle said.

"OHH GOD KENNY CAN'T TELL IF WE'RE REAL? OH GOD!AM I REAL!" Tweek suddenly squeaked.

In that moment I couldn't help but laugh hysterically. And it felt like I hadn't done that in eternities. Everyone look at me, confused, staring, wondering what made me sudddenly crack up.

"I'm sorry but..." I gasped between laughs. "I'm just so happy to be relatively back to normal!" I said. My ribs hurt from laughing, and soon I was crying.

I was crying because I was happy...and because I knew it was soon going to come to an end.


End file.
